


Seven Times Jim and Melinda Pretended They Were Dating...and One Time They Didn't Have To

by Meowser_Clancy



Series: Assorted Jimel AUs [4]
Category: Ghost Whisperer
Genre: Beaches, Dressing Rooms, Elevators, F/M, Faking It - Freeform, Just Friends, Making Out, Pretending, with benefits
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-07-23 21:33:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7480908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meowser_Clancy/pseuds/Meowser_Clancy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Jim and Melinda...They were friends. Just friends. So why is that when Melinda takes him to her ex boyfriend’s wedding, everything seems to change? And why do they keep ending up in bed together?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Are you kidding me?” Melinda burst out, opening the door to Jim’s apartment and startling him where he stood at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables.

“Whoa,” he said, holding up his hands. “Slow down. How am I kidding you?”

“It’s not you,” she huffed, slamming a ripped open envelope onto the counter. “Rick Payne just sent me a invitation to his freaking destination wedding.”

He stayed calm, not rising to her level of hysteria. “Oh?” He asked, scraping the vegetables into his salad bowl.

“In the freaking Caribbean,” she huffed. “With the ever illustrious Rachel as bride.”

She moved next to him, more than a head shorter, watching him as he tossed the salad. “I have to bring a plus one,” she said.

“You don’t have to bring a plus one,” he immediately contradicted. “Mel, you don’t even have to go.”

“Really?” She asked. “I don’t have to go to my ex’s wedding? If we were talking about Kevin, I’d say sure, because let’s face it, he’s never going to find a woman stupid enough to marry him. But we’re talking about Rick.” She scoffed. “Rick and Rachel. God, he’s actually marrying her? Their names sound terrible together.”

“I think they sound cute,” he said.

“Rise to the occasion, Jim, and be mad for me,” she snapped.

“I’m not going to get all flustered just because he finally decided to tie the knot,” Jim protested.

“It’s not about that, I don’t care that he’s getting married but he invited _me_ ,” she said, pointing at him. “And in any world that I can think of, it is a direct challenge. He is showing off the fact that he’s getting married and _I_ am still single.”

“Or you were in his address book and he had no control over who got invitations, because usually the bride and her family take care of that,” Jim said, voice soothing.

“Jim, does it look like I believe you?” Melinda asked, standing in his way as he tried to talk to the table and sit down.

“How’d you get in?” He questioned instead, skirting around her, his elbow brushing what had to be her breast. He closed his eyes, counting to ten, until he was breathing again.

“You never took your key back that one time you asked me to water plants,” Melinda said, waving the question away. Her voice softened as he sat down, and she perched on the stool at his kitchen counter, watching him. “Jim, you were there. You know how it ended. There’s no way this isn’t meant as a...slap in the face to me.”

He looked up at her, trying to eat his salad. “I was there,” he said. “I think you were both equally hurt and...don’t kill me, Mel...both equally to blame.”

She sighed. “Yeah, well, jury’s still out on that one. It’s just...I do want to go. I want to...see him. Reassure myself that I...we...made the right choice. But I can’t go alone. I need...a plus one.”

Jim rolled his eyes, seeing what was coming from a mile away. “Mel…”

“Jim... “ She said in the exact same tone. “Come on. You’ve been working way too hard. Surely the hospital can let their number one surgeon take a week off?”

“A _week_?” He asked. “Whose wedding takes a whole week?”

She blushed. “Well, you’re right across from Eli and he and Rick are still, somehow, best friends so I may have talked to him before coming over here. The wedding party and a lot of the families are going to be down there the half the week before and half the week after; they’re all combining vacations or something, I don’t know.”

“We’re not family,” Jim said quite simply.

She propped hands on her hips. “We’re more,” she said. “We’ve got something to prove.”

“You’ve got something to prove,” Jim corrected. “Besides, how could we prove anything together? No one’s going to believe that we’re together now. And as you pointed out, Eli lives right across from me. He’ll tell Rick if you’re faking it and then you’ll really be in trouble.”

“Then we’ll just have to make it look real,” Melinda scoffed.

Jim paused with a bite halfway to his mouth, images shooting through his head of how Melinda would make it look real. His mouth was suddenly dry; he lowered his fork and took a gulp of water instead, shifting his chair closer to the table.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

“We’ll make out a few times in your elevator until Eli sees us and thinks it’s genuine,” Melinda said. “We’ve been friends for, what, twelve years now, Jim?”

“Eleven and a half,” he corrected. “Freshman year of college.”

She smiled at him, letting herself be caught up in sentiment. “It was fall,” she sighed. “A beautiful day. A guy tried to grab my ass and you punched him in the face.”

“Yeah,” Jim breathed, remembering just how she’d looked on that day, in brown jeans and a light blue crop top. And how she looked now, in tight jeans and a semi professional top.

“I mean, it’s a miracle we haven’t done anything before now,” Melinda joked.

“What do you mean?” He asked, unable to tear his eyes from her, salad completely forgotten.

“Just that most friends have stories about late nights on the couch that somehow turned into makeout sessions and then just never panned out the next day,” Melinda said, folding her arms. “We never did that.”

“No, we didn’t,” he said softly. Because he knew, every one of those late nights with Melinda, that if he’d tried something...if he’d experienced how good it would be to _finally_ kiss her, he would never be able to go back to being friends with her. And he also knew that she did not want to anything more than friends with him. Something she just kept repeating in a myriad of ways.

_I’m so glad you’re my friend, Jim. Sometimes I feel like you’re the only one who gets me._

_I’m so happy I can tell you this._

_This relationship is my longest lasting, I swear._

_We can’t mess this up._

“You seem into it,” Melinda commented.

“Into what?” He blurted, terrified that she’d sensed his thoughts.

“Going to the wedding with me,” she said. “Faking it for a few weeks.”

“Oh, Mel, I’m a busy man,” he said.

“Then clear your schedule,” she said. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll get you tickets to see that band you like, The Red Pigeons.”

“Crimson Doves, and that would be pretty impossible, they go for...a lot, and they’re gone like this,” he said, snapping his fingers.

She smiled slyly at him, the look on her face enough to make him shift in his seat again, trying to process this new side of her. She was, honestly, a bit of a prude. He knew for a fact that she’d only been with two guys and she hadn’t really enjoyed the sexual side of the relationship...something he fully blamed on the men she’d been with.

Oh god, he’d wished so many times, imagined so many times, just kissing her, making it better, bringing her to the point where she’d finally learn what a good thing sex could be, and not just something uncomfortable and messy, something one owed to their boyfriend but didn’t really want.

He would change all of that for her, if just given a chance.

“If you think they’re impossible to get, you haven’t seen me in action,” she said, jumping from the stool that he barely even bent his legs to sit down on, moving forward. “Please, Jim.”

He looked up at her, unconsciously licking salad dressing from his lips. “Fine,” he said.

“Yes!” She said, pumping her fist. “I’m this close to booking our tickets; I just have to hit confirm!” She picked up her phone again, doing a little dance. “You aren’t checking more than two bags, right?”

“For a week? Probably not,” he said.

“This is just so perfect,” Melinda enthused. “I mean, Rick was always, needlessly, jealous of you anyway.”

Needlessly. That was a bit of a punch in the gut, a reminder of just what they’d never be.

“I feel like we should practice,” she said, eyes sparkling, putting her phone away.

“Sorry?” Jim asked.

“Well, Eli will be leaving for his afternoon lecture soon, so we should plan to be in the elevator when he’s going out,” she said. “And we can accidentally on purpose be making out in the elevator when he leaves and he can tell Rick.”

She was grinning at him, eager to... _kiss_ him. _Make out_ with him. With Jim Clancy. Her best friend of eleven and a half years. The best friend who’d been in love with her for probably _twelve_ years of that time period.

They’d both had been there for a week at the early acceptance program at Stanford; he’d seen her there and fallen hard for the brunette with the bouncing ponytail who asked just the right questions in the mock classes there.

He wouldn’t say that he’d daydreamed the whole time until he started that fall about her, but it was close. Something would just remind him of the way she’d challenged a teacher and he’d just be remembering her all over again, hoping that she’d be there that fall.

And she had been. Best moment of his life.

Except, perhaps, this one. Melinda Gordon, bouncing on her toes in front of him, basically asking him if he’d make out with her.

“Sorry, you’re saying we need to make out to practice and then go to the elevators?” Jim asked, clearing his throat.

“Yeah,” she said. “We need to make sure it’ll look real.”

 _Oh, Melinda, it_ will _, don’t worry about that._

He was still staring, still vaguely in shock.

“Come on, your salad is done, you finished lunch,” she exclaimed, yanking the bowl away and placing it by the sink. “Stand up,” she said, whirling back around.

He did so slowly, rising to his full height of 6 feet and 1 inch, towering above her height of 5’2”; since she wasn’t even wearing her usual sky high heels, there were pink Keds on her feet.

As he did so, she looked up at him, as if only now realizing what she was asking of him, what they’d be doing in a short amount of time.

Her breaths started to come quicker and he hadn’t even moved closer yet. He sometimes wondered if she’d been abused; she had such a visceral reaction to even the prospect of being come onto.

God, he hoped not. If she had, that was one thing she’d never told him.

“Calm down,” he said gently. “Breathe. We don’t have to do this.”

“No, it’s fine,” she muttered. “We have to...have to make it look real.”

“Oh, Mel,” he breathed, moving closer, placing a hand on her now trembling shoulder. “Have a little faith.”

* * *

 

The problem was, Melinda had a little too much faith. Jim hadn’t had that many girlfriends over the years but they’d seemed to be plenty satisfied in the bedroom...unlike Melinda and her luck with men.

It really was, she considered, as Jim stepped closer, a miracle that they’d never done this before. Surely all friends did, at some point. It was just something that happened. And this wasn’t that weird. It wouldn’t be a thing. They’d just fake it until after the wedding and then she and Jim could go back to being friends, joking about that one weird time they’d pretended to be a couple and what an acid trip that had turned out to be.

He was ever closer, and she had to tilt her head way back to see his face, wondering how this would work. Kevin and Rick hadn’t been nearly as tall as Jim. And she’d usually worn heels with them.

And Jim was right there, bending his head, his broad shoulders, folding over her, and she found herself backing up, bumping against his kitchen counter. “Sorry,” she said, breathless. “It’s just I think we need to, um, really should, uh...you’re too tall and I won’t be able to reach you.”

Jim’s brow crinkled as he looked at her, as if contemplating the validity of her words.

“So then what?” He asked. “Do you have shoes in the car to change into?”

God, he was too calm for this. Why was he always so freaking calm, no matter what Melinda was asking him to do? Why wasn’t this as life changing for him as it was for her?

“No, but…I might get a neck cramp, or you might if you’re leaning down like that,” she said, voice panicked.

He finally smiled, turning his head away as if to stifle a laugh, before suddenly, startlingly, placing his hands on her waist and placing her on the kitchen counter. “Happy?” He said.

She was too startled, frozen in place by the fact that his hands were still there, possessively settled on her hips. “I, uh…”

“Just calm down, you’re the one who wants to practice,” he said, and she felt like he was mocking her.

She was almost his height now. She leaned forward and kissed him, expecting it to be easy and fun, over in a second. Expecting it to be like kissing Rick or Kevin, which was most definitely not a bad activity, but not really astounding or incredible either. It had been fun.

This was not fun.

It wasn’t to say that there wasn’t an aspect of fun to it, but the way that Jim’s lips were moving over hers, how his hands had come up to cradle her face, angle her mouth better for him to capture her lips…

From the way her heart was beating like she was about to have a heart attack, this wasn’t fun. This was electrifying.

She found herself kissing him back, finding a new pressure, moving her lips against his, testing things.

His hands were moving around to her back, arching her spine, granting him _even better_ access. And oh god, was that his tongue, sliding along her lips, telling her to open up?

She braced her hands on his chest, pushing him away. “Do you think french kissing is necessary? Do you think if it isn’t french kissing Eli will notice? Do you think that not french kissing means we won’t look real enough?”

His eyes looked glassy, and his lips were red, plump already from their brief makeout session. He growled, or that was what it sounded like, deep in his throat, and the sound both frightened her and made her come alive, deep in her stomach, almost her pelvis.

And then he moved forward, his lips moving against hers, his tongue _demanding_ entrance, and that pretty much answered her question. After all, it did have to look real.

She opened her mouth as his tongue probed again, but kept her own tongue back, hesitant, as Jim’s swept into her mouth, feeling much better than she’d thought it would. It had been too long since she’d kissed, well, anyone. Much less anyone who actually knew how to kiss, as Jim obviously did.

The sensations were...amazing. She couldn’t even describe it, she could only feel the silk of his tongue, the heat of his mouth, the faint taste of caesar salad dressing, his hands on her back, his tongue in her mouth.

She wasn’t sure why, but her own tongue crept out to meet his and he _moaned,_ deep in his throat, almost a hum but too deep, too guttural, pulling a responding gasp from her. His hands were moving, restless on her back, going down almost to her ass, and in front almost to her chest and she _wanted_ to feel his hands in _both_ places...and then it was over.

Jim pulled away, looking entirely too calm, as always, panting a little, but so was she.

“Real enough?” He asked, voice rough but tone gentle.

“Yeah,” she said. “Now we just have to go do that in front of Eli and we’re fine.”

She hopped down from the counter, moving away from him just so that he couldn’t see her face anymore because she knew that her face was pretty much an open book, especially to Jim, and she didn’t want him to know how she was feeling right now.

Buzzed. Drunk on the way he’d kissed her. Needy. She wanted more. _More._

He was moving behind her. “Are we actually going to the elevator now?” He asked, voice soft.

“Um,” she said. “Maybe not. I was asking him about it and it would be too obvious if he caught us now.” She stood there, thinking for a minute, hearing his silence, wondering why it felt...disappointed. “Tomorrow morning would be better,” she said. “You’ve got the night shift. He has a morning class. I’ll meet you at the hospital and we can be making out on the ride up, like we’re about...have breakfast in bed.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jim said, voice steady, and she still couldn’t find it in herself to turn around.

“Okay then,” she said, voice a bit too high. “You’re getting off at 9, right?”

“Yeah, I’m starting at two, covering for some guys,” Jim said.

“Got it,” she said. “I’ll be there at nine then.”

She wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard him say, right as she left, closing the door behind her…”Looking forward to it.”

  



	2. Chapter 2

 

She was trying to climb him as if he was a tree, Jim vaguely reflected, his lips covering hers, and his arms tight around her.

They'd been riding up and down on the elevator for a good ten minutes now, and Eli still hadn't shown up.

And now this, he thought. Their lips were melded together and he couldn't imagine doing anything with Melinda that wasn't kissing after this. Her body was warm and soft, and her arms were slung around his neck; today she was wearing her usual sky high heels, and usually he hated the sight of them because they just looked painful but today he welcomed them because once inside the elevator, after a too long car ride spent in complete silence after she'd picked him up, she'd immediately turned to him.

"Eli will be leaving soon," she'd said, brown eyes warm. And then, with no hesitation, she'd kissed him. And it had been just like yesterday but twice as good as he'd remembered. She seemed more responsive; maybe she was, what with how her hands seemed to be everywhere, running from his shoulders to being clasped around his back, and then gliding over his chest, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him down even farther for better access.

And now, ten minutes later, after ten minutes of pure torture and bliss, she was desperately trying to hook onto him, and he wasn't sure if this was real or fake, but her leg was there, and she was almost pressing against his erection, and they were treading into dangerous territory.

He pulled away, staring down at her, unused to the sight of a tousled Melinda. Her hair was insane, having fallen out of a very carefully constructed bun about two minutes in when her fingertips had been on his neck and he, wanting to touch her all over, wanting to let his lips fall to her neck but not daring, had instead burrowed his fingers into her hair, toppling the bun and bringing her much closer to him.

Her lipgloss was smeared and when he licked his lips he could taste it there; if he looked in the mirror he knew he'd see the shimmer. And she was flushed, cheeks bright red, and her lips looked swollen and she was breathing very rapidly, her breasts rising and falling in such rapid succession that he couldn't look away as they pushed to the neckline of her low cut top and then fell again.

"Eli hasn't left yet," he said simply.

She propped her hands on her hips, staring up at him, obviously a bit lost as to what the next step would be. "We're nearing your floor, maybe it'll be our lucky time," she said.

He shook his head, knowing that he had to stop this soon or she'd be getting a lot more than making out from him because he felt like he was about to explode from how good it was, and what a sensory overload he got when kissing her.

"I need to get to bed," he said. "I'm sorry but I've been up since 1:00 a.m. and I need to sleep; I've got another shift tonight."

She moved closer to him, and he gasped as she placed her hands on opposite sides of his waist, bracing them on the wall. "Why so many night shifts?" She whispered. "Come on, one more time. Just in case. Then I'll let you go."

He moved his head back, trying to protest, trying to look anywhere but her sparkling brown eyes and her smeared lipgloss. Her brown hair had fallen in curls over her neck, and she tilted her head, pleading him.

He placed his hand on the back of her neck and leaned to kiss her again, much quicker than they'd done this yesterday. No hesitancy. No Melinda backing away. Just the heat of them, him making his move and kissing her, feeling her mouth open underneath his, and her tongue immediately come to meet his, making the first move, making him moan.

She sighed in return, very obviously enjoying this. He placed his hands on her waist, and she arched into the touch. Oh god.

He lifted her, unable to stop himself this time, and her legs locked around his waist, her arms tight around his neck, holding him there.

The elevator doors opened and neither even turned to see. All Jim knew was that Melinda was in his arms and they were kissing and he didn't want to let her go.

He moved from the elevator, his arms snug around her back, bracing her against the wall outside of his apartment door, and as the kiss went on, her lips fell away from his, pressing kisses to his jaw, down to his neck. That was unexpected. That was entirely shocking to him, and froze him, seeing her brown curls forcing his head up as her lips pressed kisses to his neck, moving down to suck on his collar bone.

His hands slid down to her ass, cupping there, feeling the perfection of her buttocks in his hands, sliding over them, grasping tight and she moaned, low in her throat, for the first time that day making a sound over a gasp that had always seemed to him to be more of surprise than real desire.

And then she ground herself against him, against his pounding arousal, her hips snug in with his, and her head slipping down his neck even more. He realized he was grasping for his doorknob but goddamn it, it was locked.

He pressed her against the wall even more, holding her there with his body and one arm, sliding one hand carefully behind him to grab the key from his back pocket, moaning in triumph when he did so, and also because she'd somehow gotten the top button undone on his dress shirt and her mouth was on his sternum, trying to push aside the white undershirt and move her mouth to his pecs.

Oh, god, how things were different now.

He finally got his key, shoved it into the lock and slammed the door open, somehow relocating them into his apartment and shoving the door shut behind them, and she was sliding down his body to the floor.

And it was like time stilled. There was no point in continuing now. All chance of Eli seeing them was gone. Jim couldn't even breathe at this point and he knew that Melinda had left love bites on his neck, and was that all it had been? Marking him for future run ins with Eli? So Eli could ask who his new girl was?

God, what a fool Jim had been. Of course she'd want to leave a physical mark.

Their breathing was too loud. Too obvious. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, wearing black slacks and a sleeveless top. He was in jeans and a dress shirt, no tie. And her eyes seemed to be caught on him in return, moving greedily over his shoulders and down to his hips.

It was time to tell her to go. Time to stop this, because holy god above, he could not imagine stopping kissing her if they started again. He couldn't imagine forcing his hands off of her body again. He couldn't imagine not taking it as a sign that she wanted things to continue between them.

She was lifting one arm, moving it over her jaw, caressing the skin there and he was just staring. What was she doing? Did she know what she was doing?

She let her hand fall away from her face, moving it up to rest on his chest, over his heart.

"Mel—" He began.

"Shh," she breathed...and grabbed hold of his collar, pulling him down to her height, pressing her lips to his.

* * *

This was going to happen. This was happening, but Melinda had spent an entire day dreaming of Jim's hands on her again and she'd be damned if she'd let this moment pass.

It. Was. Perfect.

He was perfect and she couldn't fathom how she hadn't seen that before. His hands were like a chisel, and she was the sculpture he was working on, and slowly he'd knocked away all of her doubts and now here they were, standing in his foyer, kissing like this moment would never end.

She could feel his erection pressing into her and she wasn't as shocked as she would have been yesterday. They were kissing. Any man would...react. Just like any woman would. Just like she was right now.

Between her thighs was an insistent pounding, an urge; her legs scraped together and that just made it worse, and it had been both easier and harder to bear when her legs had been clenched around his waist; when she'd pressed her core to his erection and it had been the Best Thing Ever.

And his shoulders were just wide, strong, muscled, and how had she never touched them before, used a shoulder massage as an excuse to feel the hard bones there, the obvious muscle, and he was the doctor so she didn't know what these were called, but oh god, his skin was hot and tight, stretching over him perfectly, and all she wanted to do was peel his shirt from his body and worship his shoulders, his arms, his chest, down to his abs and she hadn't seen him without a shirt in a while, but he'd always been built, and from how hard his stomach was against her breasts she'd guess his six pack was still there.

She wanted to see for herself.

His lips were pressing against her chin, her jaw, moving down her neck as she'd done to him earlier, payback, equivalent exchange, giving as good as he'd gotten...better. Had to be better from how this felt; the scrape of his stubble against her neck, and the wetness of his mouth on her neck, and he was sucking, and oh god, he'd leave marks just as she'd left on him, and the journey to get those marks was incredible.

Her hands slid down his chest, subtly unbuttoning his shirt and he was so concentrated on her neck that she wasn't sure he'd noticed until his hands were suddenly covering hers, freezing her as she started to tug his shirt from his pants. He was pulling away, his eyes dark and she was terrified that this was over, that he was done, that the act was too much for him and he was sick of this, but he was pulling his shirt off, muscles rippling,letting it fall to the floor and then then he was reaching to tug his undershirt from his pants too, from his belt, pulling it over his head and yes, he did still have a six pack and his shoulders seemed ever broader now that there was such a clear contrast to his hips and he was staring at her and she had work this morning but who the hell cared, she was playing hooky and she sure as hell wasn't going to tell Jim that.

Instead, she reached down and pulled her own shirt over her head, hearing a hiss of breath from Jim, a sharp exhale as she cast the shirt aside, her breathing heavy, her breasts present in a black strapless bra.

He stepped forward, eyes dark, and she wasn't sure what he was doing but then his arm curled around her back and he was leaning down again, bending over her, arching her back up to him and lowering his head and just as he got there he unsnapped her bra and it fell to the floor.

And then he froze, almost as if she'd been the one to undo her bra, as if in shock, his eyes focused on her breasts, his eyes dark and his breath coming in pants. And he was staring, his eyes tracing every curve, up her waist to the round globes there, bared to him, topped with dusky red nipples that had hardened in response to his gaze and were now just there, waiting for him.

She felt intensely embarrassed, wondering why he was reacting like this, why he wasn't touching her when that had been her first instinct when he'd removed his shirt.

She moved her hands to his chest, running her fingers over his pecs now that she had the chance, feeling his skin jump in response, leaving goosebumps in her wake, trailing her fingers down to his nipples, hoping that in doing so she'd induce him to touch hers because her breasts suddenly felt sensitive, swollen, heavier, as if she needed his touch to relieve the sudden ache.

He was still a statue, his gaze dipped to her hands on his chest and she brushed her thumbs over his nipples, pressing on them.

And then he moaned, his lips going to her neck, laying a hot kiss there, before trailing downwards, and his strong arm behind her was the only thing keeping her standing but oh god, even that might fail her she felt so weak, and his lips were on one breast but it wasn't enough and she moaned under his touch, raising her hands to her breasts, cupping them because, goddamnit, he wasn't and they needed to be touched, they needed hands to relieve their soreness, she should know.

She'd done this enough herself before, lonely nights with just her and her vibrator. She was most definitely in touch with her sexuality but she was not in touch with someone else being in touch with it and oh god, Jim was about to fail her.

And his lips bumped her hand, and he growled, deep in his throat. "So this is how it's going to be," he said, pulling away, and she stared at him, terrified she'd made the wrong move, before he suddenly pulled her into his arms, going straight for the bedroom.

Not part of the plan. Not part of the plan at all, but his bed was huge, a King size at least and he placed her in the middle, crawling to loom over her, his knees on either side of her hips, wedging her in tight, his hands braced above her shoulders.

His eyes seemed to be daring her, daring himself, burning through her.

"Don't be impatient," he said, voice thick. "I'll get there."

Her pulse jumped and she just stared up at him as he shifted, concentrating and suddenly he was rolling onto his back, pulling her with him, having her straddle him and his hands were cupping her breasts, testing their weight and the moan he made when he did so made her forget everything she'd been worrying about, dismiss it as invalid.

His hands were warm, rough, large, almost but not quite completely covering her breasts, as he tried to hold their entire weight, as if lifting the burden.

She shifted on top of him, feeling his stomach beneath her core, her legs spread over his abs, but it still wasn't enough.

She braced her hands on his chest as he tugged on her nipples, his fingers bringing the little buds to even tighter peaks, desperate for something she wasn't even sure of, and she moved her weight down, settling on his erection.

And that was, definitely, better, but still not enough.

His groan as she settled onto him though...sent a wave of hot heat down through her, making her panties wet, making her really want this even more, and she rocked against him, feeling him swell against her, pulse into her.

She whimpered at the sensation and his moan shot through her, making her only move faster on top of him, and he moved beneath her, bucking under her hips, jolting his hips into hers, and the movement was almost enough to send her over the edge.

She knew exactly what she needed. Her clit wasn't near him enough and she edged down a bit, and the end of his erection was right there and she pushed into it, and even through their clothes and then she felt him shudder beneath her, and he'd come too, and she shifted off of his erection, moving up on his stomach, intending to just let him calm a bit.

Her voice was too high when she spoke, almost cracking. "Well," she said. "That was fun."

His throat was working and she leaned down, pressing an openmouthed kiss to his jumping pulse.

"I have to get to work," she said, scrambling from the bed, having no idea what she was supposed to do next. She wanted...to fall asleep in his arms. She wanted to lie in bed with him forever.

But that was impossible. This was all just pretend anyway. It got away from them, sure, but Melinda could feel, deep down in her core, that when this was over, when the wedding was done, Jim wouldn't care anymore. They'd go back to normal.

But what was normal? And how could she accept a normal that didn't include this?

Her jeans were wet and his probably were too, and she needed to change before going to work, and she glanced back at him, and he was still lying on the bed, flat on his back, unmoving. Not stopping her.

She left the bedroom, stumbled down the hallway to his foyer, found her bra and shirt and pulled them on, feeling dazed, like this wasn't how it was supposed to end. Like she should be back in there, lying on his hot chest, feeling his breath beneath her cheek.

But that was impossible. That was for lovers. And they...they were just friends. This new aspect of their relationship was confusing but one thing was clear...nothing had changed.


	3. Chapter 3

Half a week had gone by.

Melinda had never gone so long without seeing Jim. Without stopping by his apartment with Chinese after a too long day at work for her, feeding him before he went off to work himself. Why did he keep getting the night shift? She wondered, staring out the window of her apartment. Grandview was a small town.

They should have been showing off all along. People would have talked. Eventually it'd leak back to Eli and then leak to Rick.

She couldn't sleep tonight, though. All she could think about was Jim and the number of times she'd picked up her phone to call him in the past three days. And all the times she'd placed it back down, changing her mind, not sure of what she'd say.

God, she had to see him again. She didn't understand why things had changed. So they'd...done things. They'd kept their clothes on. Most of their clothes. Their friendship could survive this, why not?

And yet whenever she thought of him she couldn't separate the two...she couldn't imagine going over to his place for dinner and not ending up making out on the couch.

Because he was that good a kisser, she persuaded himself. It was all just to do with the fact that he had magic lips...and hands...and she had to feel them again. Had to feel him again. Had to bring herself to that moment with him.

She hadn't used her vibrator since then. She knew it wouldn't feel the same.

She slowly sat back on her bed, hiking her nightgown up, feeling oddly liberated once she'd bared herself, and grabbed her phone. He'd get a message.

"Hey, Jim, it's Melinda." She paused, but quickly spoke again before his answering machine cut her off. "I need to buy a dress for the wedding and I was thinking I'd go into the City to get it. I was hoping that you would come along and help me decide. Maybe tomorrow? Since you're all nights this week? Call me back. You know the number."

She hung up, thinking of Jim, wondering what his reaction would be to getting the message...shock? Bewilderment?

Or would he just go along with it, like he always went along with it?

Was he truly just busy? And she was the only one noticing the stark absence of their friendship over these last few days?

She bit her lip, trailing her fingers up her thigh, wondering how Jim's would feel replacing hers; she found herself squeezing her eyes shut and imagining him there, looming over her, as he had on his bed, and then slowly letting his hands fall to her thighs.

He'd slip inside her.

Melinda moaned, inserting a finger...and another…

His touch, his fingers...they'd be bigger. Like the rest of him. He had huge hands. She flushed a little, a sudden thought bringing her even closer. Men with big hands...big feet…

She remembered rocking on top of him and he had seemed to be large.

They should have taken the rest of their clothes off.

That thought sent another shockwave of pleasure from her mind to her pelvis and she pushed into herself, stimulating that place, thinking of Jim.

How tall he was. How he towered over her. How he had always, without fail, just been there for her, as a support system, as the best friend she'd ever had, making her feel safe no matter what.

She'd never had that.

And now it was like he was everything in one because if Jim was a sex god, why would she ever need a different man in her life? Really, this was all perfect.

She came, shuddering over her hand, rolling onto one side, feeling how wet she still was.

And that was when the ghost appeared in the room, leaving Melinda to curse and yank her nightgown down.

"What the hell?" She shrieked, sitting up on the bed. "Listen, I don't care how desperate you are, I don't allow ghosts in my bedroom."

"I need your help," the woman said. "And I've been here for ages waiting for you to finish up."

"God, I hate you people sometimes," Melinda said, beet red. "Just because you're dead doesn't mean you can sit in my bedroom while I...while I…"

"While you get yourself off?" The woman finished. "I don't care about that, hon. I only wish I'd figured it out myself instead of staying with my deadbeat husband all these years."

"What do you want?" Melinda sighed.

"I need you to find my high school sweetheart," the woman said. "I saw the light when I first died but then I thought of him and it disappeared and I was talking to some other people like me and they said that you could help."

"I can," Melinda said, voice softening. "What's your name?"

"Alice Bently," Alice replied. "My maiden name was Martin. And his name...he was Tom Halliford. We were best friends all through high school and senior year we finally started dating. It was amazing. To have that friendship to build on, it took our time in bed to a whole 'nother level compared to other people we'd been with."

Melinda flushed, wondering if that was why sex with Jim was so unbelievable. When they hadn't even had true sex yet and she'd come. Twice, if you counted just now.

"Anyway," Alice said. "I'm not sure whose fault it was, but maybe we both got it into our heads that it would ruin our friendship to keep dating, even though we were closer than ever. People said stupid things, as people do, and we, so afraid of losing what we once had, lost what we currently had, and I haven't even heard from him since we graduated."

"Which was when?" Melinda said. "Sorry, but I don't think I'm gauging your age correctly."

"It was twenty years ago," Alice sighed. "Class of '89." She breathed out, her eyes seeming to take her to a different place and then Melinda was there with her, standing in a crowded gym, watching people slow dance. "There we are," Alice whispered. "That couple not making out even though we should have been."

Melinda sighed, looking at the two teenagers, obviously crazy in love but suddenly unwilling to admit it.

"I didn't want to be weak and say that I did want to continue dating," Alice said. "I should have been weak. This is no way to be strong."

The dance floor faded away and Melinda was back on her bed, staring at Alice. "I'll let you sleep now," Alice said. "Sorry for interrupting you, I just couldn't wait any longer."

"It's okay now," Melinda said. "It's fine. Don't do it again but it's fine."

The ghost smiled before disappearing.

* * *

Jim's heart skipped a beat when he got home and there was a message on his machine; another beat when he looked at the caller ID and it was Melinda's number.

God, he'd missed her. These past few days had been torture without her; he'd just been wondering where she was and why she wasn't here, and why everything had changed and if this new flirtation was actually worth it if it meant losing her.

It wasn't.

He realized that, crystal clear. If them faking this, if him letting it be a little too real on his side, would mean losing her...he couldn't do it. He'd call it off. He'd make an excuse.

He hit play on the machine and Melinda's voice filled the kitchen, _"Hey, Jim, it's Melinda. I need to buy a dress for the wedding and I was thinking I'd go into the City to get it. I was hoping that you would come along and help me decide. Maybe tomorrow? Since you're all nights this week? Call me back. You know the number."_

She sounded...hesitant. Hopeful. Like she was terrified he'd say no.

He glanced at the clock. Five a.m. Then he had three hours to sleep and they could catch the 9:00 a.m. train into the City. He quickly texted her, saying that he'd meet her at the train.

He walked into the bedroom, stripped his clothes off and got in bed...only to lay there for an hour just thinking about her. About what they'd done in this very bed.

* * *

"You seem irritable," Melinda commented as they walked into the next store; they'd already been to three.

"I didn't sleep well," he said, scraping a hand over his face. Oh god. Why had he agreed to this? First up, the instant he'd seen her at the station he'd gotten hard, more from the memory of what they'd done, and what he realized he hoped to do, than from her outfit, which, admittedly, could have done it even if they hadn't been fooling around these past days.

It was a dress, terribly short and open necked; he could see the concealer on her neck covering up the love bites she still sported, and wondered why she was covering them up. He didn't want her to cover them up.

And all thoughts of just friends had faded from his mind and he'd listened to her talk about her latest ghost, trying to concentrate on her words.

Her name was Alice and she needed to find her high school sweetheart.

Jim hadn't been able to retain much more than that, too caught on how her breasts bounced in that open neckline.

They were facing each other, on the upper level of the train, and his knee was in between hers because of how close the chairs were; her skirt was short and the way her knees were spread to accommodate his leg...made a man think dangerous thoughts.

But she seemed entirely unaware of it.

And at the end, as they were getting off the train, she'd smiled at him. "Just thank you, Jim," she'd said, voice soft. "For always listening. You're...the only person I can talk to about this. Which you know."

He'd just placed a hand on her shoulder, guiding her down the tight steps and slipping an arm around her waist as they walked through the station, bringing them through the crowds.

She didn't like crowds. Jim knew that all too well. Too many ghosts.

And the simple fact that they were in a big city with a lot of unsavory people and it wasn't a bad idea to keep her close and pray that she didn't get catcalled.

And now, hours later, they'd been to three stores, and he'd watched her change in and out of that tiny dress all too many times; seen her feet through the gap at the bottom of the door as she stepped out of it, seen her bare arm reach over the door to take a new size, been struck with lust as he only wanted to enter the room with her.

Seen her parade in front of him in dozens of styles, from elegant sheath dresses to plunging cocktail dresses, always checking herself out in the mirror and doing things from bending over to arching her back in them, checking every angle.

And it didn't even seem to register to her that he would react to this. That even with what they'd been doing, and how they'd done it, she still didn't think he'd react to her being, well, her.

"You're tired of this," Melinda said.

"Shopping is…" He trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

She looked tired too, propping her hands on her hips as she looked over the store. "I'll find something here, I promise," she said, voice soft. "And if I don't, I'm giving up."

"I liked the red dress at the first place we stopped," Jim said boldly. And he had.

She sighed. "Me too, but it's not right for a destination wedding. I should probably get something both more and less formal."

He sighed, browsing the racks with her, until the saleswoman walked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for a dress to wear to a destination wedding in the Caribbean," Melinda said, repeating words she'd said over and over today.

"Come over here," the woman said. "We've got a lovely selection of more Island themed clothes."

Jim wanted to help her look at them. But this had happened every time; the saleswoman had just taken over and the only times he'd been able to help was when she was busy.

Melinda was loaded down with another armful of gowns, and the saleswoman, thankfully, ran off to help someone else. Jim sat down on one of the couches outside the dressing room, waiting for Melinda to come out.

And when she did...dear god. Another red dress, this one vastly different from the first. It was strapless, plunging, and there was a slit all the way up her thigh, and she was giggling, laughing at how much skin it showed, until she turned...and he was just staring at her, and the look on his face must have chased the laughter away.

"What do you think of this one?" She asked, moving closer to him.

He found himself standing up, walking to meet her, seeing his image appear in the six mirrors, tired of waiting. "I think if you wear this in front of Rick Payne he'd leave Rachel at the altar," he said, voice hoarse. "And I that if I let you wear this in front of Rick Payne I'll never speak to myself again."

Her eyes widened and she stared up at him, before, unexpectedly, anger took precedence in her slightly dazed mind. "Let me?"

She stalked back to the room, and he found himself following.

"It came out wrong," he began, but she was whirling around, her color rising and apparently when her cheeks got redder, so did her breasts. Why hadn't he ever noticed that before?

"I know that it's a stupid dress, but you don't have to say it like that," she spat at him. "Do I really look that ridiculous?"

And that thought...that image, what she thought he was thinking right now, where she thought what he'd said had come from...made him snap.

She opened the door to the changing room and he stepped inside with her and she opened her mouth to say that he wasn't allowed, because the rules were printed right outside, but instead he kicked the door shut behind them and bent over her, pressing his lips to hers, placing his hands on her back.

There was almost nowhere on her back that he could touch that wasn't bare. It was very low and there was this cut out too, leading almost to her ass, and he found himself just pulling her even closer, his lips muffling any angry response she might have wanted to say, until she was kissing him back, and he praised god above the moment she did so.

And this dress wasn't even a dress and he'd probably die, and oh god, her leg was so fucking bare, and his hand was running up her thigh, sliding underneath the material and she wasn't wearing panties and her ass was smooth and she moaned when his hand cupped her there, and brought that leg up, trying again to wrap herself around him, but he wasn't going to do that today, he had better things in mind, and as they kissed, battling it out, their lips and tongues fighting it out for them, he slid his fingers around to the inside.

She bucked against his touch, and he kissed her harder, capturing the moan that almost escaped her. They had to be quiet.

She was squirming, her legs almost clamping together, but he was running his fingers over her thighs, urging her back open and she was granting him access, practically melting in his arms and he was glad that he'd put on hand sanitizer when they'd entered the store or he wouldn't let himself be doing this right now.

He slipped his fingers inside her, and she was so hot around him, so wet, just capturing his fingers, tightly holding him there and he slid his fingers higher, finding her, and she was gasping, whimpering and his mouth was the only thing keeping her quiet, keeping her cries from reverberating throughout the entire store.

She was slick, ready, waiting for him, and there was nothing he wanted more than to enter her, right here and right now, feeling her wet heat embrace him, but he couldn't do that right now, that would be going too far, so the only thing he could do was make her come like this, even if it meant not quite getting there himself.

And the skin on the small of her back as he held her upright was so fucking soft, and her core where his fingers were currently was so wet and hot, and she was making such utterly fantastic sounds…

And then she came, almost screaming into his mouth, his lips and tongue muffling it all.

And they were just standing there, Jim's fingers inside her, their mouths together but stilled, when there was a sharp rap on the door.

"I won't kick you out but you're buying that dress," the saleswoman said rather sharply.

Damn it.

Melinda pulled away from him, frantically checking the price tag. "Fuck," she hissed.

Still a bit drunk on the moment, Jim read it over her shoulder. "This was the wrong dress to show me," he whispered, his lips falling to her ear, but she jerked away from his touch, and he knew that he was no longer welcome inside the dressing room.

"I'll pay for it," he said simply. "I make more than you do and this was...just as much my fault as it was yours."

He slowly pulled his fingers from her, and she wasn't even looking at him, and he slipped from the room, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

"The bathroom is down there," the saleswoman said, a nasty smile on her face. "Clean up."

He wanted to slap her. He wanted to leave the store without paying for the dress and more than anything he wanted to have sex with Melinda while this bitch watched; hating her for the shame that Melinda was about to feel because Jim had lost control, because Jim couldn't keep his hands to himself and oh god, he didn't want Melinda to think that it had been a mistake.

* * *

They were both hungry, Melinda reflected as they left the store, bag in hand, after a humiliating fight at the counter over who would pay for it.

She led them into the first restaurant she saw that didn't have a line outside for a table and they were both quiet as the waiters took their orders.

There was a bulge in his pants. Jim hadn't come.

She propped her chin on her hand, considering that. Did she care that they'd been caught? Maybe. Was she angry that she had to buy the freaking dress? Not really. Yes, it was expensive but Jim had paid for half and Melinda could swing it this once. Did she think it was Jim's fault, as he obviously did?

No. It was her fault, for parading in front of him like that in such a dress. And now she'd had one of the best orgasms of her life and Jim hadn't been able to follow suit.

She slipped her heel from her foot and, heart jumping, lifted said foot, placing it on his thigh, and he jumped in his seat. "What the hell are you doing?" He asked, eyes widening.

"You didn't get to come," she said. "And it wasn't fair."

"That doesn't mean I want to get kicked out of here too," he said, closing his eyes when her foot grazed up his thigh, getting closer as she slowly extended her leg.

"Melinda?"

"Jim?"

Melinda startled, yanking her foot down, and Jim's eyes flew open, as they looked up to find that they had company.

"Katie, Ned!" Melinda exclaimed. "Wow! What are you guys doing in the city?"

"Shopping for Rick's wedding," Katie replied, looking six months pregnant, mainly because she was.

"Seriously?" Jim asked. "That's what we've been doing too."

"It looks like you found something," Katie said, looking at the bag by Melinda's feet.

"Oh, not for the wedding, there was just a dress that I...couldn't resist," Melinda said.

"Can we join you?" Katie said. "It's been way too long since we've talked."

"Of course," Melinda said, checking with Jim, but he was smiling too.

Katie and Ned were, most definitely, some of his favorite people. Some of Melinda's favorite people too. Ned had been Jim's friend, and Katie had been Melinda's, and they'd introduced the two at a party a few years ago.

Melinda grinned. And the rest was history. Now they were married and expecting twins.

Melinda and Jim had danced at their wedding. Jim had been the best man; Melinda have been the maid of honor but Katie had a sister, so they'd only danced near the end, after Jim had finished dancing with the wedding party and people he had to dance with.

She could still remember how possessively he'd held her during that dance, how closely. How she'd felt so buzzed in that moment, her breasts feeling tender, her arms heavy. She realized, in an instant, that, before now, that night was the closest they'd come to doing it. To making that mistake that all friends had to make, one time or another.

They had been so close. Their lips had been only centimeters apart and then it had been time for the bouquet toss and everything was over.

She remembered his eyes on her that evening.

"We've had such a good time," Katie enthused. "And we actually ended up getting a hotel room, since Ned here can't keep his hands to himself and when he's horny, I'm horny and the saleswoman was just glaring at us so we escaped and found a room and vented our frustrations."

Ned grinned. "They were some frustrations," he said, his arm around Katie.

"Ha!" Melinda said, and the words came out of nowhere. "Jim and I didn't even make it out of the dressing room!"

All four people at the table froze. Jim met her gaze and she could see the question there because they hadn't talked about this. And why would they keep Katie and Ned in the dark about it, but it was too late to go back now because if they were faking it, why would they be playing around in changing rooms?

"Oh my god, you guys are dating now?" Katie gasped.

"Seriously?" Ned asked. "Dude, finally!" He slapped Jim's hand.

"That is so perfect, I always hoped you would," Katie said.

Melinda stared at Jim and Jim stared back at her and then he looked away.

"Yeah, it's pretty new," he admitted, and then met Melinda's gaze in a moment that took her breath away. "But one day we just looked at each other and wondered...why we hadn't done this before now."

"That is so sweet," Katie said.

Melinda met his gaze over the table again, and he shrugged at her. You're the one who did it.

And she didn't want to lie to Katie and Ned. They were her best friends after Jim but how did one explain it? That no, they weren't together now...but yes, they had been fooling around in the dressing room.

Melinda felt lost. Bewildered. Katie and Ned and Jim were just talking, about a mile a minute, and they were laughing and it was how it always was with them. Four friends. Now on a double date.

Halfway through the meal, Jim stood up and slipped away to the bathroom. "I need to wash my hands."

And Melinda wasn't sure why, but she stood up too after he'd slipped away. "I need to wash my hands, too," she said, and hurried after him, not caring what Katie and Ned would think.

There was a family bathroom besides the other two, and Melinda reached Jim just as he was about to go into the men's room. "Jim!" She said.

The look on his face when he turned around almost stopped her heart. She was going to speak, she was going to apologize but then the door to the family bathroom opened and a mother came out with a kid in tow, and Melinda, grabbing Jim's hand, dragged him inside.


	4. Chapter 4

Once inside the bathroom Melinda realized that she had no idea what she was doing here and Jim was just staring at her.

"What are you doing?" He finally asked, folding his arms, almost glaring at her.

"It just blurted out," she said miserably. "They were boasting about their lack of self control and it just came out."

"But why would we lie to them?" Jim asked. "Surely you'd want to tell Katie."

His eyes pierced her, questioned her.

"I don't know!" She said, throwing her hands up.

"And why did you follow me?" Jim asked. "To further prove it to them? I get fooling Eli and Rick but these guys are our friends. If they see us in action like this without knowing why then our eventual 'breakup' will shatter them."

He was angry. He was actually angry with her.

He turned around; he was washing his hands in the sink and Melinda found herself standing near him, sticking her hands underneath the flow once he was done, shaking his hands off, drying them on a paper towel.

"Jim…" She began, meeting his gaze in the mirror. "It got away from me. I'm sorry."

Jim slammed his used towel into the trash can. "Well, maybe I am too," he murmured, his gaze sweeping over her.

And with that, he left.

Melinda stared after him, tears in her eyes, willing herself not to cry. What had she gotten herself into? What had she gotten them into? And could she ever get them out?

* * *

 

All Jim knew was that it took everything in him to walk away from that bathroom and not just pull Melinda into his arms and start kissing her again, but after what had happened in the fitting room, he was not going to let that happen. Just no.

He reached their table, and Katie and Ned seemed very surprised to see him back so soon. "What about Melinda?" Katie wondered.

"I didn't see her," Jim lied, reaching for his water and taking a long drink.

"Oh," Ned said. "We thought...Oh."

"I guess she actually needed to wash her hands," Katie giggled.

They started talking and Jim idly followed the conversation; something about how Ned had been promoted and they were debating on whether they were going to repaint the nursery or move.

"Move?" Jim asked. "Where to?"

"Actually…" Ned said, grinning at Katie and reaching to take her hand. "Wait, where's Melinda? She should hear this."

"Must have been a long line for the ladies room," Katie said. "You know what, I'll go look for her."

Jim watched her go, her graceful walk only aided by pregnancy.

"Okay, spill," Ned said. "You and Melinda have barely looked at each other all meal. Are you guys already on the outs?"

Jim sighed. "Let's just say that the fitting room attendant wasn't quite as excited as we were and we ended up paying for a $1,500.00 dress."

"Well, damn," Ned said, whistling. "Why the hell was she even trying it on?"

"I think it was a joke," Jim said carefully. "I just didn't see it as one."

"Poor guy," Ned chuckled. "Well, at least you'll get to see her in it again, am I right?"

Jim just took another drink, as Katie came back to the table. "I don't see Melinda anywhere in the ladies room," she frowned.

Jim straightened. "I'll go take a look, she sometimes goes to the unisex bathroom instead," he said.

"Nope, the door was wide open and it was empty," Katie said cheerfully.

Something in Jim's heart seemed to freeze at that moment.

"Listen, we have to run," Katie said. "I hate to desert you like this, with Melinda missing, but we have an appointment for a fitting at 1:30 and that's, like, now."

"Where were you planning on moving?" Jim asked, hugging them goodbye, remembering how they'd cut off.

"Well, might as well tell you, but let us tell Melinda," Katie said.

"Grandview," Ned said. "The time is right."

"That's just awesome," Jim said. "It'll be great to have you guys in town."

He watched them leave, sitting back down, crossing his legs and waiting for Melinda. She was probably just hiding out, maybe waiting for Katie and Ned to leave before she came back.

But she wasn't coming back.

After a good five minutes of waiting and paying their half of the bill, Jim picked up Melinda's purse and shopping bag, going to the bathrooms.

She wasn't in any of them. He checked, and had a matronly grandmother check the ladies room.

"Looks like she got away from you," the woman chuckled and Jim just smiled, too worried to think about the next possibility.

He walked outside the restaurant, reflecting that she could have gone outside without passing their table. Had she panicked and just left? Admittedly, she'd done that a lot to him before he knew that she could talk to ghosts.

Ghosts.

That had to be it. He wanted to slap himself for not seeing it before now, but they were in New York City, for god's sake. There had to be a ton of ghosts right under his nose.

Damn it. He couldn't let himself do this to her. He knew exactly why his friendship meant more to her than anyone else's; why she was so attached to him, why they'd made eleven and a half years without ever trying anything.

Because if she lost him, she lost the only living person who knew that she could talk to the dead. That she did more than that; that she helped them, crossed them over. That they could possess her sometimes, make her experience things that terrified her and sometimes she just needed someone who knew, since understand would be asking for too much out of this lonely world that had already done such a terrific number on her.

He picked up his phone, dialed her number, and her phone rang inside the purse over his arm. He felt heartsick, wondering if she was all alone, minus some ghostly company, wandering this blasted city, because sometimes her ghosts said yes where Melinda said no. Sometimes she couldn't necessarily refuse to go with one.

He went back into the restaurant, approaching the maitre'd, giving her his information, and asking her to call him if Melinda returned. She nodded with a frown, writing everything down.

"Sir, do you think she was kidnapped? Would you like to report this?" She asked.

"No," Jim said. "Just make sure that, if she comes back, she stays put, okay?" Jim said.

"Of course," the woman replied, and Jim ran from the restaurant.

He tried to remember what the ghost she'd been talking about on the train had needed. She was looking for the ghost's high school sweetheart.

Was there a chance he lived in the city?

Jim took out his phone, looked up the name Alice Bently. He got thousands of results, even when narrowing it down to just New York State.

This was impossible.

But he refused to let that stop him.

_Do you think she's been kidnapped?_

No. She couldn't have been.

As he ran, he remembered the night he'd first seen her; there was another reason he'd remembered her. She'd been standing in the middle of campus, in the middle of the night, talking to someone only she could see.

And he hadn't wanted to believe that she was crazy. That just wasn't an option.

He'd always intended to ask her about it after that, but he'd never gotten around to it. The timing was wrong. He didn't want her to feel like he was confronting her or something, and if she wanted to tell him...she would.

And one night she had, tears streaming down her face. She was desperate and lonely and needed someone to just listen. And Jim was there.

"I can see ghosts, I can talk to them," Melinda said. "I can help them resolve their unfinished business and make them go into the light. It doesn't make sense. I know it doesn't. I know that it's impossible and you won't believe me and that's okay, but I just need someone to know. And you can think I'm crazy all you want, but it won't change anything."

"I don't think you're crazy," Jim said simply. "And I believe you."

She'd flung her arms around his neck, and then she'd just cried in his arms, unable to speak for the relief she felt.

And that was what had kept their relationship alive all these years. What had kept them friends. Because Jim knew that Melinda needed, more than anything, a shoulder of support when she had to track down living relatives who didn't want to see her, didn't believe her story, didn't want to hear about whether or not they believed. When doors slammed in her face. When life was just too hard.

When she needed a ride home after yet another ghost made her crash her car. When she woke up with nightmares and she'd come over to his house with Chinese, waiting for his night shift to be over, just sitting outside his door with a bag of food until he got there.

And they'd eat in silence, until the dam finally broke and she'd tell him what she'd seen. What she'd heard. How they were tormenting her now.

And he'd seen the good side of it too. He'd been there when she brought peace to people, when things worked out and the ghost was happy and the living were happy. When the feeling of utter peace was so overwhelming that even he felt it. When she cried tears of joy that another person was finally set free from their burdens.

When she went home alone, to an empty house he didn't want to be empty.

He wanted to be in it.

And now he'd been running for ten minutes, just blindly looking for her, and the love he felt for her was just overwhelming him, because he didn't care if she lied and suddenly he could and would

do anything for her because he'd suddenly remembered just how very precious she was to him, and if that meant paying half of a $1,500.00 dress and lying to their friends...he was in. He was there, so there.

And as the sun in the sky started to sink, and the city was ablaze in lights, Jim felt a presence, a guidance, and he found Melinda before the sun went down.

She was shaking when he found her, down an alley, and she simply reached out her arms to him when he walked up. And he was so relieved to find her again that that overrode anything else, and he just held her in his arms, whispering words of comfort.

* * *

 

"Don't go home," Melinda said, voice small. They were sitting in her kitchen; it was eleven o'clock and they'd just gotten home from the train, from an exhausted journey of just sitting together. She remembered the horror of the afternoon and shuddered; she didn't want to be alone right now. Not tonight.

"I don't have to," Jim agreed. His arms were folded over his broad chest, and he was just looking at her, eyes soft. "What happened this afternoon, Mel? Was it a ghost?"

"Yeah," she said softly, as the kettle whistled and Jim poured her a cup, not needing to ask where anything was.

"Chamomile," he said. "It's relaxing."

"I know, that's why I buy it," Melinda said.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Jim asked.

"Not really," she whispered. "I just don't remember leaving the bathroom. I was…" She could feel her lips trembling, her face twisting to keep her from crying and she took a sip of tea instead, almost burning her mouth.

"It's not done steeping yet," Jim said, voice gentle.

"Yeah, well," Melinda breathed out, shuddering a little.

"You need a shower," Jim said. "Wash the city off of you."

"I don't want to be alone," Melinda said, quite simply.

Jim's eyes were lidded as they rose to look at her, as though he hadn't been thinking about it before now and now was because of what she'd said.

His tongue swept out to wet his lips, and Melinda just looked back at him.

"Then do you want company?"

The words were dangerous, loaded. Jim's voice was low, rough, rougher than he'd intended and he cleared his throat after, a red sheen on his cheeks as he looked at her. As he looked around her, avoiding her gaze.

She breathed out, and then stood up. "Will you sleep with me tonight?" She asked, voice shaky. "Just sleep?"

"Yes," he replied, still not quite looking at her. "No shower then?"

She shook her head. "Come up in a few minutes," she breathed, and he nodded, taking his own cup of tea and taking such a big drink that she knew he'd burned his throat.

But maybe he welcomed the pain.

Jim walked up the stairs a few minutes later and Melinda was coming out of her bathroom, in low rise cotton pants that were only just clinging to her hips and an loose t shirt.

He wondered if she usually wore this type of thing to bed, or if this was because he was joining her. Remembering the lace of her bra, he rather doubted that she didn't wear nightwear to match, and immediately regretted thinking about it.

And she was getting into bed, pulling the blankets up, her gaze shooting to him. He pulled his shoes off, and his belt, and suddenly realized just how intently she was watching him, and willed himself to not get a boner.

It had been a hot day in the city. He hadn't worn an undershirt with his polo, which he now pulled over his head, casting it aside.

His jeans followed the shirt and he climbed into the opposite side of the bed that she was on, settling down in bed. "Good night," he whispered.

"Thank you," she replied, and turned out the light. He could hear her moving around, flipping her pillow, trying to get comfortable.

He lay on his back; he usually slept on his stomach but now he was unsure which way he should make his head face, since should he look at her or away?

So instead he stared at the ceiling, pretending he couldn't hear her struggles, until she spoke. "What do you do when you can't sleep?"

He rolled onto his side, facing her. She looked as wide awake as he felt.

"Just tough through it," he said.

"I thought you had the night shift," she suddenly breathed, her hand moving out from under the blanket.

"I called in sick while you were changing," Jim said. "They can manage."

She nodded, biting her lip. "I don't...I didn't think about it, Jim. I wouldn't have asked if I'd remembered."

"Then I'm glad you didn't," he said. "They...will manage. And you need me more right now."

She nodded again, her hand fiddling with the blankets. Jim rolled onto his stomach, giving up, throwing his pillow off of the bed.

"You don't sleep with a pillow?" Melinda asked.

"Not usually," he breathed, trying to close his eyes but he had decided on facing her and she was too close, too tempting, to make that a viable option.

"Can I cuddle with you?" She breathed. "Not spooning, can I just…"

He found himself nodding, preparing to shift onto his side, and she was moving closer on the bed, curling into his side, and then she was moving onto his back, literally half lying on top of him, one arm and leg flung over him.

And his first thought was, how the hell can I sleep like this and in what universe is this cuddling?

And his next thought was bleary, sleep muddled. And he soon realized that the weight of her body on his was lulling him to sleep.

And soon after that he wasn't awake to think about it.

* * *

 

Melinda hadn't been able to sleep like this since she was three years old. She had tried maybe once with Kevin, and never with Rick, afraid of being too much of a weight for him.

She didn't have that worry with Jim. Jim the person who had lifted her without even thinking about it.

This would be the best sleep of her life, she reflected, feeling him solid beneath her, the ripple of his muscles, his gentle breathing, her cheek flat on his back.

She drifted off, her mind closing down, only able to think about how good this felt, and sure, they could be friends who had sex and slept together. That was totally doable.

Her fingers were resting on his bare bicep, wondering if he usually slept shirtless, or only when sleeping over.

He was asleep.

She was getting there.

Her mind moved off to a new world, and her body shifted over his, curling into his side, his arm coming around her. They were both fast asleep.

She was running through a school, and everyone was staring at her. And then a boy was standing there and he wasn't Jim but she saw him as Jim and he was telling her how this wouldn't work and this could never work, and then Alice was there, crying, her pain so real that Melinda awoke, gasping, clutching her chest, sitting up in bed because she was afraid she was having a heart attack.

And Jim's arm was there, pulling back onto the bed and he was waking up with her.

She'd told him about her nightmares before. This was the first time he'd witnessed one.

"Hey, Mel, you okay?" He said, sitting up, his arm falling off of her. "A ghost dream?"

"Yeah," she gasped and she was still feeling Alice's emotions and when she looked at Jim her heart hurt so much she cried out, pressing a hand to her chest.

"Did she die of a heart attack?" Jim asked, seeing her panicked moves and she shook her head, feeling tears blind her vision and she was crying then.

He was pulling her into his arms, onto his lap, cradling her close. "Whoa, Mel," he soothed. "Is this you or her?"

"Both," she managed to say, her cheek pressed against his bare pec, against his heart.

"Is your heart actually in pain?" He asked, voice serious.

"No," she said. "That was all Alice."

His hand was smoothing over her back, up and down, rubbing gently, slipping to where her t shirt ended and barely grazing the bare skin above her pants.

Her tears were stilling, and his arms were tight around her, and she was on his lap and she could feel his swelling beneath her, and it was natural instinct, second nature, to press her lips to his.

He tasted like sleep, but so did she.

His hands were splaying over her rib cage, holding her, and she pressed into his erection making them both moan, and his hands were under her shirt, finding her breasts, cupping them, whipping her shirt over her head until she was bare and they were skin to skin, all moans and gasps, whimpers, pleas to be touched, and to touch in return.

His hands were hot, and big. Being with him was like making love in an inferno and Melinda never wanted this frenzied moment to end. Her lips found his neck, his collar bone, trailed down his chest, and they were falling back on the bed, his body keeping her there, pinned by his weight but there was nowhere that she'd rather be.

And she loved him, she loved this man, and it was like an ache, making her cry out again, and he was pulling back, worried, because it was pain and not pleasure making her cry.

And she couldn't let him think that.

His boxers covered him and she was still wearing her pants and she arched her hips into his, grinding them together. And maybe only teenagers who didn't want to get pregnant did dry humping anymore but being with Jim made her feel like a teenager and they definitely weren't ready for the next step because that would make things real, irrevocable, and this was...this was just giving in.

And he arched into her, pulsing against her, and they were both gasping just from how that felt, and it was taking longer than it had in his apartment but they were getting there, until she exploded in a crown of stars and he soon followed suit, panting over her.

His body was limp over hers, his weight was very welcome, and then they slept again.


	5. Chapter 5

They were boarding the plane, and it had been a week since their impromptu sleepover.

They hadn't been able to keep their hands off of each other since then. Whenever Jim came home after a shift Melinda was there, and they'd just fall into each other, hands everywhere.

It always ended differently. Some days they just dry humped, others they just made out forever and each night...she ended up sleeping in his bed.

When he came home the second night in a row to find her outside his apartment, he wondered why she didn't use her key, but realized that he might know why when she practically jumped him, legs winding around his waist, lips tangling with his.

She didn't want to waste a second. If she was waiting inside, it would take too long for him to find her. And she might not hear him, and she might doze off…

No, he thought again, lowering her onto the bed, already taking his shirt off. That would take far too long.

And that was how it had gone. She'd given him a hand job, hesitant and shy, biting her bottom lip as she did it in the dead of night.

He could only see her eyes, huge and brown, unsure of herself, and if it wasn't Melinda that wouldn't have brought him closer, but it was Melinda, trying her damndest to pleasure him, give him a good time and fuck her hands were small on him, and maybe he was bigger than average, but it gave him a secret thrill to see small her hands were in comparison.

And they were warm and soft. She could have taken him anywhere.

And he'd used his fingers, again and again, until she almost placed them there before he did, until she could signal to him exactly what she needed in exactly the right moment to bring her closer.

But that was it. Nothing more, nothing less. Melinda rarely got fully naked, and Jim only ended up nude if it was the middle of the night and pitch black.

He followed her onto the plane, resisting the damn near irresistible urge to stare at her ass, to palm it briefly because he suddenly felt stressed about this whole thing and she'd make him feel better. He knew she would.

They hadn't gone for oral yet. Jim couldn't even imagine how good that would be but he was almost dying to find out, and it just seemed to be next step, the only possible step.

But they were on a plane. For the next few hours. Getting a boner would not help anything and he was not going to be the guy who made everyone else uncomfortable by trying to finagle his girlfriend into joining the mile high club.

Melinda had booked second class, but it was still pretty crowded as they entered the section of the plane, checking their tickets to see what seats they'd get.

Their seats were together; she had picked a window seat and had checked that he was okay in the middle, but even though Jim's long legs would have preferred the aisle, there was no way in hell he'd leave the seat next to Melinda empty. Not until he learned how full the plane would be.

The pilot was already speaking, saying that it was going to be a very full flight with all seats booked and Jim mentally groaned as an older woman sat next to him, the perfect picture of a meddling gossip.

He'd be sure to get his ear talked off. It was almost a four hour flight.

He'd been really, really hoping that they'd be alone, that he'd be able to at least sneak a kiss from Melinda. She was so addicting. And now they wouldn't even be able to properly talk.

He saw the woman open his mouth and, hoping to shut her up, placed his hand on Melinda's thigh, caressing upwards, sliding his hand into hers.

She startled when he first touched her, mouth falling open a little when his hand slipped into hers, because they hadn't really done this before either.

But then a smile appeared on her face, and she slid her hand into his in return, winding small fingers through his, locking them together. "You knew I was nervous," she whispered, leaning to press a quick kiss to his shoulder, an almost uncontrollable smile on her face, and the sight literally made his breath catch in his throat. She was beautiful. She'd become so free with him, so unaffected and it made him just stop and stare whenever she didn't hesitate, when she did little things like this.

If this was real...if it could become real, if it was real in the first place...he could see that it would be the same but so much better. He could imagine her smiles, being able to always hold her hand just because, being allowed to touch her everywhere, pick her up, hold her close without needing a reason, without pretending that Eli was there.

Oh god.

Eli was here. On the flight. Something Jim could have expected but Eli was the best freaking man and should have taken an earlier flight. But then again...he was Eli. Of course he was going late.

"Jim! Melinda!" Eli said, and Jim realized that it was his fault that Eli had noticed them; he'd accidentally been staring.

Melinda's hand jerked in his and Jim just held tighter, pulling her hand into his lap, displaying themselves to Eli, who didn't even notice.

"You are going to the wedding," Eli said. "I wasn't sure. I feel like you two aren't on good terms with Rick anymore."

Melinda smiled a little stiffly. "I mean...we know all the same people and certain items of the past should be forgotten."

"Yeah, definitely," Eli said enthusiastically. "Hey, can I…?" He met the older woman's gaze. "Sorry, these guys are my friends, my seat is just up there, and it looks like you'd have really nice seatmates if you switched."

Friends. Jim sighed. Was Eli still his friend? He didn't even want to think about it. He supposed he didn't dislike the guy, but sitting next to him would be worse...Wait.

No, it wouldn't. It would be good, so good. Because then Melinda would want to put on a show.

So why was she frantically shaking her head?

"Well, I suppose so," the woman said, obviously thinking that Eli was cute, and obliging him because of that. She got up and Eli helped her with her luggage before shoving his stuff in the overhead bins with Jim and Melinda's and plopping down.

"Whoo, I am so tired," he said. "I stayed up until 3 a.m. finishing up patient charts and I am so regretting not doing it earlier but Rachel kept bugging me with wedding plans and blah blah blah." He slouched in his seat. "Makes me wish that I wasn't the best man after all."

Jim just shook his head, and turned back to Melinda, who was looking just a bit panicked.

"So, why are you and Melinda going together?" Eli asked. "I mean, Mel's Rick's friend, but you, Jim?"

Mel. He'd called her Mel. He really doubted Eli had Melinda's permission for that. Or was close enough to the woman.

"He's my plus one," Melinda said, as they both realized that Eli must not have seen them at all in the past few weeks.

"Plus one?" Eli said a little blankly.

With that, Jim had had enough of waiting, turned in his seat and brought his other hand up to cup Melinda's cheek, pressing his lips briefly to hers before turning back to a gaping Eli.

"You two are together now?" Eli asked, a stunned moment later.

"You could call it that," Jim said.

"Wow!" Eli finally replied. "That is so amazing. You two were so stubbornly just friends, it bugged Rick so damn much, he hated how close you two were while denying that anything else would ever happen between you." He chuckled. "Because Rick had played that game before. Men and women can't be just friends. It doesn't last."

"It lasted eleven years," Melinda said, just a tad sharply. "This doesn't mean we aren't friends. It means that—"

"That Jim finally got the balls to tell you how much he freaking adores you and always has," Eli said, rolling his eyes. "Everyone saw the way he looked at you back then. Why do you think Rick hated him? Er, makes that hates."

As Jim sat in stunned silence, feeling his cheeks getting steadily hotter and more flushed, he didn't dare look at Melinda.

When he finally did, she was just as red as he was. Their gazes caught and held, and suddenly Jim couldn't look away. And he wanted to say something.

Yeah, I mean, I realized one day that there was nothing to wait for. I wanted her now. I've wanted you forever, Melinda.

He turned away, swallowing a little.

"Rick hates Jim because Rick is a douche," Melinda finally said, clearing her throat. "He hates anyone that I talked to for more than five minutes."

"Well, that is true," Eli admitted. "But I mean, Rick got burned and burned badly with Kate. You know that, better than anyone else. She cheated on him and I still don't think he's quite over it."

"Well, that was part of it, but he literally did not trust me to even call Jim for directions to get home," Melinda said. "Even though Rick had no sense of direction and Jim was born with a map for a brain."

"Yeah, but whose home was Jim steering you to?" Eli said.

* * *

Melinda just sat there in stunned silence again for another long moment. She wanted to say that Eli was just being jealous on Rick's behalf, dredging up the old argument of whether Jim and Melinda really were just friends all those years ago.

But they were. He hadn't had feelings for her...had he?

Jim was looking at his lap; the tips of his ears were red and she really wanted to get him alone, talk through this with him.

They grew quiet as the plane took off; Eli had brought even more paperwork and he muttered something about trying to get it done before they reached the Caribbean so that he could fully concentrate on having fun this week.

Melinda suddenly realized, anew, that it was a week. A week that she'd be spending in a room with Jim. In a bed with Jim, because there was no way they were going to let Rick hear that they'd gotten a room with more than one bed.

She'd reserved a room with a queen bed. It was an expensive hotel; there would be soft sheets, thick blankets, lamps placed carefully, and Jim.

Jim's body moving over hers, broad shouldered, big hands teasing every piece of her, lips moving over everything.

Everything.

She wanted more from their encounters; they hadn't gone beyond hand jobs and dry humping and both of those were effing fantastic but she remembered her late friend Andrea talking about how good it was when a guy went down on you.

Melinda had never had that. Rick had wanted to but she'd been so shy then, insecure during every encounter with him, it had taken so much of her just to let him finger her, and then even when he got her to climax…

She shifted in her seat. It literally was not the same orgasm she got with Jim. It wasn't even on the same level.

Was she seriously going to spend this whole flight thinking about sex? She idly wondered, and realized that Jim's hand was still in hers; they'd never pulled away and were now just idly resting between them.

Eli was so beyond distracted.

Oh god. She just wanted a little. She wouldn't try for the mile high club or anything but she was getting so antsy sitting in this seat, waiting…

She picked up their hands, bringing them onto her thigh, sliding her fingers from his and she could tell that he was a bit lost, wondering why she'd pulled away.

She flattened her palm over the back of his hand, matching their fingers, and then spread his hand over her thigh, trying to make him touch her.

He wasn't looking at her. He was looking straight ahead but she could see a tic in his jaw, and suddenly, finally, his hand was moving on her thigh, to the back of her knees, sliding under her loose skirt. She'd been planning on wearing pants.

She was seriously thankful right now that she'd gone for the skirt.

She spread her legs just a bit wider, and heard Jim's sharp hiss as he inhaled, his hand almost clenching on her thigh, moving his hand on top of her skirt again, rubbing over her thigh, subtly bringing the hem up.

God, she wanted to taste him. She wanted to feel every moment of this, not waste a thing.

His hand was so warm on her thigh, taking up so much territory, staking a claim. His pinky subtly brushed her core, sweeping up, and she couldn't imagine being more ready.

His ears were still red. She truly really wanted to just jump up and bite one, make him groan, make him lose control, force him into taking her back to the bathrooms and making love to her.

She settled for his arm, not wanting the people behind them to see, ducking her head to press a kiss to his now flexed tricep.

Again, another hiss of breath, and then Jim just turned and brought her head up, kissing her hard and fast. "Later," he breathed, whispering the words against her lips, making her crazy. "At the hotel."

She finally nodded, seeing the huge bulge in his lap, how he was now reading a magazine to hide it from a still oblivious Eli.

This was going to be a fucking long flight. But with no fucking involved and that was a fucking pity.

Even though she was just thinking it, so many swear words made Melinda blush.


	6. Chapter 6

Their room had a balcony.

Jim hadn't noticed that when Melinda had come over to ask him if he could pay for it; he'd just inwardly sighed at the price and then said yes. He did make more than her and she'd been paying for a lot of other things without squabbling about splitting the price.

And right now he wasn't regretting the price, at all, because Melinda had applauded upon seeing it, jumping up and down and then running out to the balcony, skirt flapping around her legs.

They'd spent the whole damn flight turning each other on, and then they'd picked up their rental car and driven straight to the hotel, thankfully bumping into no one they knew in the lobby.

Jim swore to god, if his hands hadn't been full of luggage and an elderly woman hadn't gotten on at floor two, he would have taken Melinda right there, and she damn well knew it.

And now…

He followed her straight onto the balcony, watching the way her wrap shirt dipped, and everything seemed to be jiggling as she admired the view; how an ocean breeze was whipping her skirt up and her hair into her face, and he didn't want to wait any longer.

She turned to see him, opening her mouth to speak, and he placed his lips over hers, taking them in a long and hungry kiss.

He felt like she said something, but then she was rising up in her highest heels and kissing him back, tenderly, sweetly, and his arms slid around her.

And for a moment it wasn't about the sex for either of them. It was about being together in one of the most beautiful places on earth with the person they quite possibly loved most in the world at this point. It was about human touch, it was about being intimacy and love and shared feelings.

Jim held Melinda close and she slowly pulled away, looking up him with her big brown eyes, lips plump from his kiss, and he knew that they could never go back to what they had been.

The fire reignited for both of them and Melinda was jumping, leaping onto him, legs thrown around his waist, and he used his hands to brace her, pull her tighter, feeling her thighs, her ass.

Her shirt was loose, welcoming, and one hand slid underneath, finding the back of her bra and unclipping it, realized it was a strapless bra and just pulled it off, throwing it away, as their lips again met and he could could feel her breasts pressed against him, finally lowering her to the floor of the balcony.

And the rug inside would be much more comfortable but the instant Melinda was on the ground she pulled her shirt over head, stretching, showing off for him, delighting in how he just stopped all brain function and stared at her, eyes dark with lust.

And he was so familiar with her breasts by now, as he'd always longed to be; knew each valley and dip, knew which place would make her moan the loudest and sigh the softest, knew which place was his favorite to lick, and taste, and his hands had practically memorized how it felt to cup her in them; knew their weight by heart.

But as he did each and every movement, as the pressure built, he knew that they were going farther today. Because after today's plane ride...every minute of those tortuous four hours...they both deserved a reward.

Besides. Oral wasn't real sex either.

And he was dying to taste.

When he started to edge her skirt down, Melinda froze, for this second, and Jim's lips on her neck paused, ready to stop if she actually wanted to but surely she was ready by now. Please.

And he could almost feel her thought process and then she was placing her hands over his, shoving the skirt down.

And he pulled back, needing to watch, to see her.

Her stomach was flat, toned, and there were lines of definition down low. Then there were her panties, plain black, sharp hipbones, and then there were her hips, her ass, her thighs.

He leaned and pressed a kiss, low on her stomach, feeling her buck against him, hearing a sigh, and he let his mouth open, sucking on the skin there, slowly edging down until he met fabric.

And she was just still, waiting.

He slowly sat up again, just looking over her until she was blushing, red spreading everywhere.

And then he hooked his fingers in her panties and slid them down her hips, caressing her skin with the fabric, with his hands, following their path downward and trying to not react too viscerally until they were off, and she was completely bare in front of him.

And every one of his limbs felt heavy, useless, and she'd shaved. He had no idea if she usually did or not, but she was completely bare and he knew from touching her that she hadn't been just a few days ago.

She was tense. "I, uh, figured…" Her throat was working. "I'll be wearing a bikini on this trip, I should...do you like it?"

He was pretty sure that neither of them were sure how her sentence ended as it did, but he couldn't even respond.

It was just a totally different level that he hadn't been expecting at all.

And oh god, he was going to love it. He already loved it.

She was just staring at him, her legs tense where they rested on the floor, and he slowly ran his hands up her thighs, and down again, trying to relax her.

"I could—" He began, but she was already nodding.

"I want this," she said, her throat working, her hands clenched into fists.

And it somehow wasn't enough. Jim slowly ran his tongue over his lips, suddenly worrying that they were chapped, and Melinda moaned out loud just from seeing him do it.

"I want you, Jim," she said, voice hoarse.

She said his name.

His fingers moved closer, slipped inside, gasped at how wet she was, smirked to know how much wetter he'd make her.

Her breath was coming in short pants, chest rapidly rising and falling, a damn near perfect view as he started to lower his head; one nipple was so erect that he just had to move up and capture it, suck on it, before going back down between her thighs.

And then he tasted her.

* * *

Her reaction was immediate, and every nerve ending seemed to scream out a yes at the same time. He. Was. So. Hot. His fucking mouth was on her, and she couldn't have ever imagined how perfect it would feel, how much wetter it might make her, how much different his mouth was from his fingers...world's apart. Two entirely different things.

And she could hear herself, and she was whimpering, pleading, making noises that embarrassed her from their intensity and frequency but each time she did so, he seemed to make it extra good in return, even more mindblowing, moving his lips and tongue deeper...farther…

And then he found it. The spot she always went to first, to get an immediate buzz, but he was going there last and she was beyond any feelings she'd had trying something like this alone.

And he was teasing her, winding her up, his tongue the most powerful thing in the universe, she swore to god, his tongue could make world peace happen, and then she came, moaning and gasping the whole way, stifling her loudest cry.

And he moved back, satisfied, ready to go inside, but oh, fucking no, he was getting some here on the balcony too.

"Come here," she whispered, and he immediately moved in, his lips coming onto hers and my god what a trip to taste herself on his lips. She nudged him, until he rolled onto his back, taking her with him and for another long few minutes she just lay on his chest, fully nude, just making out with him, feeling the sun beat down.

And then she sat up, knowing she was probably getting his clothes messy...who even cared. His eyes were dark as he watched her, caught by her breasts and she had to make it good for him because he'd been giving her so much.

She could feel the beginning of his erection pressing into her ass, but she didn't want that. Not today. No dry humping.

She reached for his shirt, beginning to peel it up over his head, catching on the shoulders, getting stuck there, her breasts touching his chest while she struggled, and he obliged her by getting it off the rest of the way, finally just Jim and she smiled, slowly shifting off of him, disappointing him, but then her hands were on his belt and his breath stilled in his chest.

She was so taking him there.

Especially after how good it had been for her.

"Take them off," she finally said, and he sat up, firm and defined stomach crinkling inward, making her feel yet another pang of lust for him.

He was just staring at her and then standing up, stripping out of them, pulling his shoes off first, trying to make a show of it, but he was too eager and the impatience and yet hesitance at each new piece of clothing made her want to do it even more.

And then he was naked, casting everything aside, letting her look, and god he was big, much bigger than she'd even anticipated after that handjob, after feeling him underneath her all those times.

Because seeing...was vastly different than feeling.

And he was just standing there, paused, letting her look. She slowly gestured to him, crooking her finger. "Come here," she whispered, voice hoarse, hesitant.

And he moaned, coming forward, falling onto his knees before her, and she knew what she was doing suddenly, moving onto all fours, going towards him, and his reaction to her mouth on him was almost more than hers had been to him, pulsing towards her, so fucking ready.

She moved her tongue over him, coated him with her mouth, took him deeper and now she knew why each time she'd moaned he'd outdone himself; the sounds he was making were intoxicating, each time she touched him, found a new spot, he'd just moan, or brace his fucking big hands on her shoulders, pressing there, finding her sensitive points and taking her there as she brought him farther, until he was panting.

"I'm going to come," he whispered, forcing the words out, as if wondering if she would want to pull away.

She responded by going further and he shattered into her mouth, the feeling of him losing himself in her mouth was incredible and she...she wanted to do this again, wanted to bring him to this point again, because he was pulling away, scooping her up into his arms, and god, he lifted her so damn effortlessly and she clung to him, their skin sweaty against each other, and that was when they heard the applause.

And Melinda just froze, as Jim looked up; the balconies around them were completely empty but when he moved closer, looking over the edge, there was a crowd of maintenance workers applauding them.

And Jim waved.

Melinda felt utter horror, but, seeing the flush on his face, but how he was still smiling, albeit hesitantly, she grinned, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

And then she waved too.

He whirled her around, taking her inside, laying her on the bed.

And their hands were moving, roaming each other's bodies, lazy, exploring, discovering each new place, memorizing each new muscle, tendon, bone.

And Melinda felt like she could have lain there all day with him and still not be done. Because that was how good Jim Clancy was in bed, that was how amazing his body was, that was how he made her feel when his hands were on her ribs, snaking up her spine, his lips on her everything and everywhere and oh god, she didn't even like the thought of going downstairs for dinner.


	7. Chapter 7

She could feel Jim's eyes on her as she dressed, pulling on a white flapper-esque dress, struggling to reach the zipper.

He was next to her in the next moment, hands closing over hers; Melinda had never been the women who couldn't zip her own dress but her hands fell away, moving to grab her hair and lift it out of his way.

He was dressed in slacks and an open collared shirt, a not surprisingly tempting combination.

It had to have been five before they had even gotten out of bed, and then the shower…

Well, she thought, cheeks heating just to remember it, that had been another encounter for the record books.

And then they'd finally dressed; she'd let Jim go first because she needed a moment of silence and privacy to fully register all of the things they'd been doing, to remember and catalogue every single thing they'd done in that bed this afternoon.

She almost wanted to go out a buy a journal. Because she didn't want to forget one single moment, one touch, one embrace, and she was afraid that she would; and she was afraid that things would go back to normal once they were back home.

Seven days.

She only had seven more days of this.

She had to fucking make them all count. And then once she was back home, and they were done, and Jim was back to his usual friendly self, magic hands being used on another woman, then she'd buy a whole freaking stacking of journals and she'd stretch her mind to its limits; she'd write down all of it, reread all of it…

They should make a sex tape.

Then she could never forget.

She heard Jim clear his throat. "It's almost seven," he said. "Dinner?"

"Umm, yeah," she said, lifting her head to meet his gaze, cheeks flushing hot, seeing him raise his eyebrow in return, because he hadn't even done anything to make her blush.

God, her mind was getting increasingly dirty, but the only thing she could think of when she saw Jim right now was ripping his clothes off of him again.

And instead she stood up, grabbed a purse and left the room with him, as he tucked the room key into his pocket.

She took his hand, placed his arm around her, felt him pull her closer and then they walked to the elevators together.

She was on his left, tucked into his side. If she was on his right, she would have been able to hear and feel his heart beat.

And then, like lightning as they got into the elevator, everything stopped being fun and games.

Because then she remembered why she and Jim were here in the first place. To fool Rick Payne into thinking that they were a couple.

There was suddenly a lump in her throat, a discomfort, and somehow the thought of how she'd felt back then still brought tears to her eyes.

"Hey," Jim said, looking down at her.

She forced the tears back, clung a little tighter to his hand, knew that she had nothing to worry about.

They could do this.

* * *

It was technically the rehearsal dinner, but it was open to all of the guests because of how far they'd travelled.

Jim didn't realize how tightly Melinda was holding his hand until he realized that his hand felt a bit numb.

As they neared the doors to the private room the dinner was being held in, he gave up, turning to face her.

"Hey," he said. "Calm down, okay, Mel?"

His blue eyes traveled over her, placing his hand on her cheek, leaning down. "We'll be fine," he breathed, his lips less than an inch from hers.

She closed the distance; her lips were warm and soft, and it was a gentle kiss, moving over each other, tasting each other, memorizing what it was like for life to be perfect before life had a chance to completely implode.

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against hers. "We're fine," he repeated. "Got that?"

She smiled, dimples showing. "Yeah," she breathed, darting to kiss him once more, brief and warm, tugging his lower lip into her mouth before slowly lowering herself again.

She made him feel drunk, tipsy, he reflected, straightening.

"Melinda." A flat voice spoke, startling them. "Jim."

They glanced up, realizing that the moment of truth had come. They both recognized his voice in an instant; it was burned into them even now.

"Rick," Melinda exclaimed, almost yanking her hand from Jim's before realizing just what she was doing and instead holding tighter.

"Rick," Jim greeted.

"It's so good to see you guys," Rick said, eyes narrow on them, walking forward and giving them both stiff hugs. "Rachel is right inside, you need to meet her, she's such a great person. So. You two are together now, huh?"

His eyes were zeroed in on their hands and Jim opened his mouth to speak, but Melinda beat him to it. "It's been a long time, Rick," she said, voice soft. "Things change. They did for you."

His eyes seemed to soften for a moment, before looking at Jim again and he stiffened.

"You sure that anything has changed?" Rick said softly, dangerously. "Because it looks to me like you two are just as cozy as ever."

Now Jim was definitely going to speak but a woman was poking her head out of the room. "Rick? You did leave!"

She hurried forward, taking his arm in hers, holding tight, leaning in for a quick (claiming? Jim wondered) kiss, before turning to face Jim and Melinda. "Hi, I'm Rachel. You two must be friends of Rick's."

"Yes, we are," Melinda said. "I'm Melinda."

"Jim," Jim offered before she could introduce him.

Rachel shook their hands. "Rick has definitely talked about you guys," she said a little calculatingly.

"Don't trust anything he tells you," Jim joked.

"I trust everything he tells me," she said, eyes cool. "So you two are finally together, huh?"

"Finally?" Melinda said, looking at Rick with a question in her eyes, one that Jim didn't like to see.

"He told me all about you two," Rachel said, leaning closer, pressing a kiss to her fiance's cheek. "About your years of denying everything that was so obviously between you. I guess Rick and I were a bit like you two; colleagues and stubborn as hell."

"That's…" Melinda trailed off, confused.

Rachel just smiled. "Time to go back in, honey." She smiled at Jim and Melinda one more time. "We were so glad that we'd be able to have a destination wedding and a big guest list. Rick was afraid we'd have to cut guests; my parents would never let that happen but now I wonder if that wasn't such a bad idea."

Rick and Rachel walked back inside, leaving a stunned Melinda and Jim standing there. "Wait," Melinda said. "Why were we even invited here then?"

"I don't know, since it's clear that neither of us are truly welcome," Jim said. "Then again, I wasn't invited and maybe that's the problem."

"Let's go find Katie and Ned," Melinda murmured.

They got inside, and Jim felt like he'd traveled back in time; these were people he hadn't seen for years and years, had never thought he'd see again.

He remembered how Melinda had explained how she and Jim knew all the same people as Rick did. Well, it was true, but that doesn't mean they were friends with them. As Jim met face after face from the past, he was all too clearly reminded of why they had faded from his life; why he had not missed them.

From the way they looked at Melinda...from the way they looked at him...they were vultures.

They'd been waiting all this time, making bets, mocking them and Jim hated that Melinda had felt the need to fulfill their expectations.

And yet he didn't hate what it had brought him.

Because this afternoon between them, spent lazy in bed, just exploring and loving each other...that hadn't been about lust or sex at all. That had been about…

He looked down at the woman at his side. That had been about love, friendship, shared experiences. It had been about staying close, getting closer.

It had been about touch, touching her, letting her touch him. It had been about taste, and sight, and seeing what she looked like at her most peaceful. It had been about hearing her when she reacted audibly to being so close to him. Hearing her when the pressure overtook her and there was just pants and moans left, and skin, taut, slick skin pressed into his.

He hadn't wanted the afternoon to ever end.

And now here they were, stuck in the middle of a room of people that they didn't really care about; Melinda couldn't locate Katie and Ned anywhere and finally ended up stopping another acquaintance.

Midway through that conversation, one that Jim couldn't force himself to pay attention to, he realized that she'd asked about Katie and Ned.

"I don't actually know why," Nina explained. "I thought they were coming, I don't know, I heard something about an emergency situation."

"Emergency?" Melinda mouthed, as Nina was hailed by someone else and walked away. "I need to call Katie," she said, swiveling on one foot.

"Wait," Jim said as Eli ascended to the stage.

"Why?" She wondered, and kept walking; he realized he wasn't sure why she should wait either and ended up following her.

"People often ask me how I know that Rachel is a good match for Rick," Eli was beginning. "It's easy: she's nothing like the previous women he's dated."

Jim saw Melinda's footsteps slow, and she was turning around, a sharp look on her face.

"For one thing, Rachel has class, and doesn't cheat on him," Eli said. "Unlike Rick's two most prominent exes."

And before his eyes, he saw Melinda shatter. As she realized that showing up with Jim at this wedding hadn't proved anything besides what Rick had believed all along. How he just thought worse of her now. How everyone in that room had never believed that she and Jim weren't sleeping together anyway.

"I can punch him in the face if you want," Jim managed to offer, but Melinda was running from the room...and he was following.

* * *

She didn't like how it felt to be on hold for so long. Finally Katie's sister picked up again. "I just checked again," she explained. "Ned's been texting me updates so I was seeing if there was anything else."

"What happened?" Melinda begged.

"She went into premature labor. As Ned texted just now, there's still hope for both Katie and...and the baby. But the doctors just don't know yet. And they still haven't decided if they're going to have to induce birth or perform a caesarean."

Melinda didn't like the sound of this. "Tell Ned I'm worrying, and praying," Melinda said softly.

"You're the first person who's called to ask how she's doing, and thank you for that."

The phone went dead and Melinda hung it up, staring at Jim beside her, explaining the situation as best as she could; he understood the medical terms much better than she did.

"That's serious," he said, brow knitted together. "That's…" He shook his head. "God, I hate that this is happening. I want to be back there so badly, I want to be there for Ned."

"Same," Melinda said a bit weakly, sinking down onto a vacant chair near the phones in the lobby; she hadn't waited to call. "I can't believe that this is happening. Do you…" She looked up at him, nervous. "Do you think she'll be okay?"

"Yeah," Jim said heavily. "I'm worried about the baby."

There were tears in her eyes, falling down her cheeks, and she realized that Katie and Ned and their baby weren't the only reasons she was crying.

It was because she'd realized what a stupid thing it had been to show up to this wedding with Jim on her arm when it wasn't real. How it had proved nothing that people hadn't already been thinking. How the gossip and words had already been swirling for years now. How no one had ever believed that their friendship was actually true.

And it had been. And even if they were, how did being in a romantic relationship lessen friendship?

She glanced at the man next to her. Even doing it just for show...had deepened her relationship with Jim. "I don't want to stay for the wedding," she said, voice small. "I want to go back and see Katie and Ned."

A smile burst through the cloud on his face. "Just let me make some phone calls," he said, leaning to kiss her cheek. "I don't want to stay either."

He stood up, blowing her a kiss. "I'll be right back," he promised and hurried away.

Melinda leaned back into the chair, feeling a headache coming on, just as someone else sat down next to her.

Rick.

"I want to apologize for what Eli said in there," he said simply. "What he said are not my feelings on the subject. And...for the record...I never thought that you two were sleeping together while we were dating." He met her gaze, held it, though it was hard for both of them. "And that was what terrified me. That you were so goddamn close and you weren't even doing it and I knew that I'd never even come half as close as he was to you."

"Jim was...Jim was special," Melinda managed. "He understood me...there was history there, I could tell him things—"

"That you couldn't tell me," Rick finished. "I get that, Melinda. I do. Life has changed and I...was a bit taken aback to see you two together like that earlier but that doesn't mean…"

He pinched his brow. "I'm not saying this well," he sighed. "There was a part of me that hoped you'd show up alone," he said. "And validate…I'm a selfish man, Melinda Gordon, in case you haven't learned that by now." He looked up and met her gaze. "I don't like to share and I had honestly wanted to see you happy for me on my big day, validating what I already hoped was true, that I'd found love. But I don't know, I told Rachel some stuff in dark moments and she heard other things from Eli and it all just got twisted. I'm sorry."

"I don't think we'll be staying for the wedding," Melinda confessed, and Rick inhaled. "Not after tonight, and not after hearing that Katie is in trouble." She told him about the phone call and he slowly nodded.

"I guess your reasoning makes sense," he said slowly. "Ned and Katie are pretty great kids. It's kind of crazy that they're having their own long before either of us do."

"You said it, not me, but yeah," Melinda said, laughing out loud. "God, Rick. Whatever happened to us?"

"You were keeping yourself too guarded," Rick said. "I couldn't break your walls down so I gave up. Things were said. Nasty things." He met her eyes again. "And I'm sorry."

"So am I," she said. "Sorry that I hurt you."

"No," Rick said softly. "I'm sorry that I lost you."

She looked up at him, startled, scared by how intense he was. "Rick, you're about to get married," she said, voice shaking.

"Just because I love her doesn't mean it's not the wrong girl," Rick sighed. "Oh, god, Melinda. Don't you...don't you ever feel it too?"

"I did, once," Melinda whispered. "But oh god, Rick. Not anymore."

Her voice broke and Rick just looked away, nodding. "Fair enough," he said. "Then see you. I'm glad you came. Even if you don't end up staying. I'm glad...this conversation was worth it."

"Yes," Melinda agreed, and he nodded before getting up.

"You know, Melinda," he said. "I always knew that Jim felt more for you. And at the rare times I didn't hate him, I pitied him for how far gone he was. I'm glad, in a weird way, that it was him. That at least I didn't lose you to a lesser man. He's good for you."

She managed to nod, wondering why people kept saying that they'd known all along how much Jim loved her.

And then Jim was there, walking up behind her. "Hey," he said, crouching before her. "You're crying again."

"Did you get the tickets changed?" She asked, shaking off the question.

"Earliest flight is noon tomorrow, but thankfully our trip insurance covered switching the flights," he said. "There was a small fee but I can cover that."

"You already covered too much," she said, wiping tears away; his hand replaced hers.

"Hey, hey, why the tears?" He insisted.

"Rick was here and we talked," Melinda mumbled. "Don't worry about it."

"What did he say?" Jim asked, voice steely.

"He apologized," she said through her tears. "And told me some stuff. I don't know. I got closure."

He exhaled. "Good," he said. "Do you want to go to bed now?"

"Yeah, I think so," she breathed, and they walked to the elevators, getting into one.

They weren't touching.

"I guess the jig is up now," Jim said, voice weary.

"What do you mean?" Melinda asked.

"I mean that we can't keep lying to Katie and Ned, it's not fair to them," Jim said.

"You mean we should tell them that we were faking it?" Melinda asked.

"No, I mean we should tell them that…" Jim trailed off.

"That what?" She pressed, her whole heart aching.

"That we fought, I don't know, or that it didn't work out but we're still friends."

The words sounded bitter.

Melinda didn't understand why, when he was the one who'd brought up this cursed topic. Why would they stop? They couldn't stop.

There was another option, but neither she nor Jim could even think of it. For it to be real. And then, of course, it wouldn't be a lie.

But both were so full of love, full of hurt, that neither of them saw it.

They'd finally reached their hotel room, and Melinda was wondering for the first time if Jim hadn't actually felt everything she had this afternoon...if it was just an act, just lust, just boredom because there was nothing else to do.

No. That couldn't be.

She turned to look at him and there he was, unsmiling, arms rippling as he dug the key from his pocket and unlocked the door.

She walked in, seeing the bed right there, feeling her heart shatter into a thousand pieces.

"Was it that hard?" She said, voice breaking.

"Was what hard?" He wondered, eyes shooting to hers, worry in his face.

"Was it that hard to pretend that you were in love with crazy Melinda Gordon?" She managed, voice breaking.

And he was stepping forward, gaze intense. "No," he said. "It was that hard not to when we were alone, as we were, for most of this damn thing. You've been using me, Melinda, and I would be lying to say that I didn't fucking enjoy it every damn step of the way, but every day, every encounter has led us closer to this moment. When we both realize that…"

"Both realize what?" She said, heart pounding.

Jim was still, contemplative. "Listen to this, Melinda Gordon," he said. "Listen to this and believe it. I have loved you from the moment we met at the preacceptance program. I have loved you every second of every day, but we were friends, just friends, and I was never going to let that get in the way, because I loved you, and because I needed your friendship and you needed mine. We were...we couldn't function without each other, Melinda. I couldn't breathe without you near to me, and you...you needed me, sure, but until now…I feel like it didn't even matter that I was a man."

"What are you saying?" She asked.

"What do you mean?" He said, staring at her. "I'm saying that I love you, and this relationship...has gone on long enough. It's too hard to pretend that…that I don't want it to be real. That every time someone says it took us long enough it isn't a stab in the heart; not only that they doubted our friendship but that...but that it's not. It's not real."

"Isn't it?" She whispered, and the silence in the room seemed to engulf her. "Isn't what we've been doing…I have given you all of me."

"Have you?" He whispered in return. "Because if you have then say it. Say the words, Mel."

And what words?

Her mind was crying but her heart knew the answer, and her heart also knew how deeply true it was. She exhaled, feeling herself calm, feeling herself know that what she was doing was finally the right step.

"I love you," she said. "And I don't know from when, but I goddamn love you, Jim Clancy."

His eyes were filled with tears and he was just standing there, and then he was walking forward, lifting her into his arms, and their lips met.

And they had never kissed like this before.

"We should talk about this," he told her.

"We can talk about it in the morning," she said, their path tonight suddenly crystal clear. "Right now I want you to make love to me." She licked her lips. "I want you to...to...hit a home run."

"God, I love you, Melinda," he breathed and then he took them to bed.


End file.
